Mottsu and me

This blog is mostly about the loss of Mottsu, the circumstances his depression and suicide, my struggle to come to terms with the trauma of that loss, my complicated grieving. It is hard to live with a person suffering depression. He said he couldn’t feel anything, that wasn’t always how it was. Way back, as early as our shared history stretches, we had been out for dinner with a group of mutual friends and a couple of stragglers were sitting in my kitchen close to midnight when the floors and walls shook. Each looked only at the other, both wondering if the other had felt the tremor. The earth moved when we met.

We soon learned the Turkish consulate a few streets away had been bombed that night. So it was a bomb rather than emotion that moved us. Even so our lives were changed when we met, as a couple of me people became a we.

We were a fabulous we, particularly he:
*we went to the supermarket together after gym
*he played eye-spy while we were horse riding
*we held hands at the movies
*he was a punter
*I loved him
*sometimes I was horrible to him and other times I just didn’t think
*he was a journalist and writer, who briefly kept a journal about his depression

This is my own journal. Suicide is hard, hardest on those left behind, that’s the story of Mottsu and me.

Left behind and on my own I am keeping it together. Sometimes surprise myself and I just as often disappoint myself. I keep on talking, writing and dreaming…

R.I.P. Dr Frankfurt Longbody M.D.

My friend’s little dog died today, he was hit by a car. She said ” … it was quick though, he’s so little. it’s so quiet in the house now.” Dr Frankfurt Longbody M.D. was “the bestest ever“.

I’m sad, I’m always saddened by the death of a dog, my friend is sadder still.

This post is a tribute to the dear pets we love and can’t bear to lose. We carry a heartfelt grief when our dear dogs die, not everybody understands that your dog is not just a dog. I remember reading an article about Peter Alexander, the pyjama guy, he described his adored dachshund, Penny, as “…my heart wrapped in fur”. That’s what it is like to own a dog for some of us.

There is a lady in my street, whose heart is wrapped in fur, she has a big old Golden Retriever, Max. They walk the streets together for hours each day. They don’t go fast and they don’t go far and I never see one without the other.

In the hot spell before this one, they were out along the local shopping strip. They weren’t walking. Max and his owner Mabel were on the footpath outside the corner convenience store. Max was sprawled across the path and Mabel knelt next to him.

Don’t die Max, don’t die.” she said over and over again. It’s a haunting memory, I knew it was important that Max not die, not on that day, not yet.

Max did make it home that day, Frankie didn’t today.

The day after St Valentines day

If you believe the research (and I do), money and acquiring doesn’t make us happy. What does?Gretchen Rubin spent a year researching what makes us happy, her work is published in her blog the Happiness Project, and her book of the same name. On the day after Valentine’ Day I am reflecting on her 12th commandment of her personal guide for happiness: There is only love…

I need to balance that with what the President of the Association for Psychological Science in America Professor John Cacioppo, observes in his new book, Loneliness: at any moment, one in five Americans, or 60 million people, feel so isolated they are deeply unhappy.

Maybe there is only love and at the same time it is only part of the story.

Valentines day

I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone

Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings (2001)